Alphabet Soup
The weight of the world is the weight of my sheets
as I imagine myself weaving a trap with your hair
to catch the breath I hold in,
laced with the perfume and sweat
I swept off your neck
like a train with the windows down.

But before I open my lips and let out
whatever it is I intend to talk about
out loud instead of in our heads
or behind our eyelids when they rise up
between us like a nocturnal Berlin Wall,
I change my mind

and swallow the words
I never wanted to interrupt your
Grisham novel with in the first place.

I exhale, but a hiccup
forces up a chain of words
I didn’t know I swallowed
and somehow "I love you" alphabet soup
climbs up my throat and sprints across my tongue
before my lips can catch it.

I can tell you’ve read the same line
at least four times as "I love you"
hangs from your earlobe like
a snow-white rabbit caught
in a forgotten snare.
"I love you"

flits across the pages,
turning them under your thumbs
one by one until the cover is showing
and the pages are hiding
from the words,
and I feel as if I’ve started a revolution.

"I love you too,"
you say, rolling onto your side,
for the first time in months
to look me in the eyes when you say it
instead of looking at the road,
fumbling the words over your cellular phone,
and for the first time in months
I see you love me
like the stained glass chapel roof of the ocean
bending sunlight across the bowing kelp forests

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TydyeTJ
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